Everything That Remains
by JJ1293
Summary: What isn't remembered never happened. Memory is merely a record. And there is no record of Naruto Uzumaki
1. Chapter 1

Everything That Remains – Chapter 1

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_"All memory of your existence will be wiped from reality. You will die, and no one will mourn."_

— Memnarch, Magic: The Gathering

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"_I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. Th-this wasn't meant to- you weren't meant to become a part of- and now that you are -and I- I'm... I'm just... please. I didn't want this! Whatever you did- that- that red– it did something and now you're caught up in it too. I...I can't control it anymore."_

_The boy he's talking to is still crying, repeating 'don't leave me' over and over. As if there was any choice. The others have all fallen asleep. That's good. At least they'll be fine. Unaffected at the very least.  
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_There was no way to stop it now. What just happened... it didn't just power up..._

_It mutated._

_It was too late now though.. He could already feel himself... crumbling. All he could do was try to prepare the him for what he thought would happen next._

"_Naruto, I need you to listen to me..." _

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'_Ughhh, this was such a drag'_. He'd barely even started the academy and he already _loathed_ it. It was work to prepare him for _more_ work!

And, to top it all off their sensei was late, which meant registration was late, which meant if he went to sleep now, they might miss him and mark him down as absent. Which meant his parents (_read: 'his mother') _would be told. Which meant...

_Better stay awake for now._

Finally, after _entire minutes_ of_ agonisingly_ consciousness, their sensei arrived.

"Aburame!"

"Hai sensei," came a stoic, barely audible response.

"Akimichi!"

"Hmgmhh" came an adjacent noise as it answered through a full mouth.

"Ba-" Shikamaru phased out, idly wandering if Aburame sunglasses would make it easier to sleep through classes. Then again, hadn't someone already done something like-

"Nara!"

"Here" he answered. His work done for the day, he planted his face upon his desk. He didn't even bother listening until-

"Uzumaki!"

He cringed, waiting for the explosion of sound that he'd come to expect from-

His brow furrowed.

What_ was_ he expecting?

No answer came.

"Naruto Uzumaki?" Their sensei repeated, sounding... confused. Shikamaru looked up to see him reading the name over. "Does anyone here know a Naruto Uzumaki?" he asked.

_Red_ _Flag, _Shikamaru decided. Daikoku-sensei had been teaching them for _weeks_. And you didn't just _forget_...

His brow furrowed.

_Who again?_

Responses came in nonchalant shrugs of indifference.

"Remain here for self-study" Daikoku-sensei announced, looking more irritated than worried as he left the room.

Conversations began sprouting up them moment the door slid shut.

'You ever hear that name?' 'Well _I_ don't know him.' 'But he's, like, in our class right?' 'Maybe someone made one'a those clerical thingies, y'know?'

_Probably just a paperwork thing_, Shikamaru agreed. The student in question was probably a couple of classes over, wandering absently why his sensei hadn't called their name out. _Yea. That was probably it._

_But then again_. Gears started turning.

_Weeks_ since term started. A mistake that would've been picked up on within _hours_ of it being made...

_What was his name again?_

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The smallest of sighs escaped the venerable Sarutobi Hiruzen as he mourned the loss of yet another good night's sleep. He was getting too old for this job. Well... technically he'd been too old for a while now. At this rate he was liable to end up like Ōnoki. Although, he supposed there was a small measure of amusement to be had at the thought of yet another Kage with perpetual back pain.

And now there was... _this. _

The Hokage took the opportunity to light pipe as he listened, considering the seven- no -eight most immediately apparent explanations, organising them in order of likelihood then rearranging them by their potential threat to the village. "Doesn't exist you say?"

The fairly large man, brown hair mostly covered by his forehead protector-turned-bandana began scratching at his goatee nervously with his free hand. "Right. We thought it was a clerical error at first..."

_Here come the 'but'..._

"But we have months of attendance records." He continued. "Grades, even report cards! Everything you'd _get_ from actually_ being_ an academy student." Daikoku's eye's narrowed. "But, ask around..." He trailed off.

"And you find," Hiruzen interrupted, quite sure of where this was going. "That nobody even so much as knows their name?"

"Yes Hokage-sama."

A frown works its way across his face. A ghost within Konoha's ranks would be troubling to say the least. But a student? A child spy would be at a severe disadvantage. Not even classified as shinobi yet, academy students were essentially civilians, their access levels reflecting as much.

_Perhaps somebody was in deep cover, fleeing Konoha in the belief that they'd been exposed?_ _If so then they were wrong. We obviously hadn't a clue._ _Then again, that would hardly explain why the child was unknown. Last time I checked, the whole point of infiltration is to actually work one's way inside a community, not remain a stranger to it._

"The shinobi, the ones who wrote these reports" Hiruzen asked. "Do they not remember this..."

"Boy" Daikoku offered.

"Quite. Do they not remember him?" he asked.

Daikoku began scratching his goatee again. _A nervous tick perhaps?_ "...No Hokage-sama. We've looked into everyone who's had a hand in his paper trail."

"And?"

"They all freely admit that the handwriting and signatures obviously belong to them, but they have no memory of the boy or their writings about him."

_How... bizarre_,_ although from..._

_Ah._

"There's more, isn't there?" Hiruzen asked.

"Y-yes Hokage-sama". Daikoku moved towards him, placing a small pile of files upon his desk.

Not that they actually provided any information of course. No, the world had never been that merciful. Every document with a few entirely useless exceptions were almost entirely blacked out. Profile picture, date of birth, linage and the vast majority of noted personal information had been covered by what appeared to be Konoha's own standard black out ink. Ink, that if tampered with, would simply destroy the document in question.

Alarm bells were indeed ringing.

Some of the only visible information was the boy's year of birth (yet, curiously, not the month or day), stating he was six-to-seven years old with his name...

'_Naruto Uzumaki_'

_That name! That name was-_

His brow furrowed.

_-entirely unfamiliar._

'_What a mess' _Hiruzen thought, taking a drag from his pipe, flicking through pages of black, only spotting the odd word or two uncensored.

'_Just who is this... Naruto Uzumaki?_'

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Somewhere so very far away, a little blonde boy packed away a borrowed blanket into a knapsack. _Stolen now,_ he guessed, glancing over at the old man who'd lent it to him, still fast asleep.

The merchant, who'd found him stowed away in his cart had been nicer than he'd had any right to expect, even if he was the same as _the rest_. For a little while he'd hoped that _maybe. But..._

_Must've been in Konoha when it happened._

He'd already been forgetting he was there every few minutes, startled into recognition whenever he spoke. By morning, he wouldn't even remember the blonde boy's name. He'd forget that he even existed.

"Thanks old dude" he whispered, trying not to wake the geezer as he thanked him. After all, being woken by a total stranger in the middle of the night... _heh, could give him a heart attack._

...

Well, that joke fell flat. Damn, he was usually better at cheering himself up than this. _Well, whatever _he thought, tiptoeing away from camp with a level of grace that would reduce an Academy instructor to –_not in a good way_– tears. Lucky for him that the geezer was a heavy sleeper.

As he stumbled over some bushes –_that totally weren't there before Dattebayo!_– onto a beaten path where once again, the boy was forced to confront the fact that he'd never exactly been very good at navigation. It was an area –'one of many', he was told– in which he was 'severely lacking'. Still though, they'd been camped right beside the road –_bad tactics, but hey _– so he had the option of taking it 'not the way he came from'. Not that it really mattered anyway.

_So. _

With a deep breath.

With a smile that was a little harder these days.

And of course, with a Knapsack full of instant ramen.

He started walking.

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END

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A/N: Sooooo... this is new.

Sorry to all those who wanted me to continue with my previous fics. Still got a serious case of 'yea, cool premise and all but where am i going with this?' So i though I'd write a fic with a cool premise that-

-OH WAIT.

So... what happened to Naruto? Some of you probably already know. I dropped some heavy clues in there for cannon junkies that will be dead giveaways. Just know that _I know_ who cast _it_, why, what the area of affect was and how it works. No making it up as I go. Nevertheless, the first person who guesses what happened and/or where this is going in the review section will get a PM from me saying "well done" or something. I may even look to you decide the pairings or something (I probably won't).

As to when this is taking place... well, you can easily figure it out but this is Young!Naruto so he doesn't have his trademark orange jumpsuit yet. I'm internally debating whether I can justify him getting it anyway. I changed his wardrobe in FCP and it just felt wrong to be honest, not to mention that its typically a red flag for a marty sue fic. Daikoku is cannon by the way. The story diverges before Iruka even becomes a teacher and replaces him in Naruto's class.

He doesn't have shadow clones either so _don't ask_.

Note: I'm writhing in UK English. Please keep in mind when pointing out spelling errors and stuff.

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!

I've been thinking of writing a SI fic but I can't figure out how to do it with any kind of skill. Hmmm, maybe one day.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything That Remains – Chapter 2

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_"Did you ever stop to think that eventually there's a point where your name gets mentioned for the very last time?"_

—GLaDOS: _Portal_

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"Hey kid!" A voice –a _familiar_ voice, he realises– hollers as it gains ground on him. The blonde's head snaps around to...

_Oh... well duh. Of course a guy with a horse and cart is gonna catch up with me. _

"You alone or something?" the merchant asks. There's concern in his voice. The kind of concern that anyone might display at seeing a seven year old boy alone in the middle of nowhere. The boy knows that he could –if he wanted to– take advantage. He could hitch a ride all the way to–

_Actually, where the hell am I going? Coz no way is 'not the way I came from' gonna work for more than a couple 'a days._

For a moment he even seriously starts to consider–

–But then he remembers. He remembers the look –_GrampsDaikokuSenseiAyameChanOldManTeuchiEveryoneHe'dEverMet_– on someone's face as they'd try to place him, desperately looking for memories that _should be there_, only to find...

_A grandfatherly smile spreads across his face. Except it's **wrong.** It's not **his** smile._

"_Do I know you young man?"_

He crushes the thought with a vengeance. There were some things he'd seen enough of to last a lifetime.

"Or something" the boy answers, barely missing a beat. "My dad's take'n a wiz in the bushes over there" he inclines his head towards some nearby foliage.

The merchant, in turn, looks rather put out by the casual reference to defecation. "Fine" he huffs. "Just making sure you weren't lost or something." He scratches the back of his head as he dons a goofy smile. "My grandson's about your age you know– "

He_ does know_. But the old geezer might take it the wrong way if he told him that.

"Thanks anyway."

With that, the merchant rode on. Content in knowing the boy had somebody looking after him.

_And then he'll forget again. Just like the rest._

The blonde, confident he wasn't going to be running into the merchant again anytime soon decided that now might be a good time to drape himself in his new–_liberated!–_ blanket. Because, as the boy had quickly found out, a black t-shirt with a red spiral and a pair of three-quarter blue/grey shorts had not been the best cloths to run away from home Konoha in. Especially not in the ass-end of October.

He'd actually been thinking a lot about Daikoku-sensei's survival classes lately. Mainly in the form of '_damn, I wish I'd stayed awake for them' _but he was thinking about them dammit! Maybe then his inventory wouldn't be solely comprised of his few remaining packets of instant ramen –_He'd packed more but... welllll_– , a battery powered kettle –_Because the need for ramen transcended power outages_– and a canteen that was in _serious _need of a refill.

"Great, now I gotta go find a lake or something" he grumped, snatching a leaf off of a low hanging branch, placing it on his forehead.

It was weird really. He'd always _hated _the leaf exercise with a passion. Mainly because he sucked at it. But also because Daikoku-sensei always frowned at him whenever he tried to channel chakra, like he was expecting something _bad _to happen or something. And then there was the time he figured out how to henge –_first in the class dattebayo!_ _– _But instead of congratulating him, he'd looked at him like he'd just _kicked a puppy_!

He missed that look.

People always used to _pretend_ like he wasn't there. But _th_ey _knew. _And he knew that they knew. Glancing out the corner of their eye when they thought he wasn't looking. The whispers just within earshot when they thought he wasn't listening. But he _was_. Looking. And listening.

He'd _hated it._ He'd hated it _so much_ that sometimes he just wanted to!–

...

And now he'd do anything to have it back. Even if it was just the mean whispers and the pointed looks. Anything just to have someone _look at him _and not...

_Forget._

"Pffft" he snorted in a kind of bleak amusement as the leaf made a familiar popping sound, falling to the ground. _'Too much chakra' _Daikoku-sensei's voice casually echoed in his head. Still walking, he swiped another leaf and started again.

_Well, at least it's not popping straight away anymore._

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Sadly, they too soon forget.

The next day, The Nara can't remember what vexed him so.

_Something about a student?_

The day after that, everything that remains is a vague sense of...

_dissatisfaction._

The Hokage lasts a little longer. The possibility of infiltration keeps his mind focused... for a time. But there is much to do and little time to do it in. Suna is too quiet, they were nearly at war with Kumo (_again_) over the Hyūga debacle and then there this new village... _Otogakure_.

When it came to this game after all, new players had a tendency to upset the board.

When an ANBU operative reports, citing an empty apartment and a coupon for 'Ichiraku Ramen', he thanks them for their hard work before dismissing them.

_What was that about?_

Everything that remains is an unused coupon on his desk that he can never quite bring himself to be rid of.

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If one were to look at the events which had transpired thus far from the perspective of a certain blonde Uzumaki child or of that of anybody else living within Konoha on such a day, one might be under the impression that an explosion of bijū chakra, large enough to envelope an entire hidden village _and then some_, had gone unnoticed.

**It most certainly had not.**

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"_Magnificent_"

Itachi certainly didn't think so. He wasn't much of a sensor –it simply wasn't a skill set he'd dedicated too much time to– but he could sense _this _chakra perfectly well.

It was, in the worst possible way, _unmistakable_.

_Kyūbi_

Madara released the vice-like grip on his shoulder as the _red _shockwave of chakra dissipated into the distance behind them. Itachi had witnessed his ancestor's ability to render himself intangible before, but this was the first time he'd actually_ experienced_ it. The feeling was... surreal. Like butterflies in your stomach, only_ everyware._

"We're leaving." The old_ old _Uchiha reverbed, unreadable as always. "We have no use for the Uzumaki child until other... _conditions _have been met."

_Ah_. So they weren't involving themselves. Itachi allowed a small nod in response. He'd done what he needed to do. The 'last' Uchiha of Konoha had been making his way through the rumor mill well enough. Storming his way through the academy curriculum. 'Another Uchiha prodigy' they were saying. Although Itachi doubted they'd be letting anyone graduate early after the example _he'd set._

_Good. _That was one positive thing he could take away from what he'd done. The children begin shoved onto the battlefield were young enough as it is.

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_Well that certainly is... odd _Orochimaru thought, surveying Kabuto's report.

His scouts on the outskirts of Konoha report seeing –_and feeling_- an explosion of '_monstrous' chakra. _Yet, other scouts, along with spies located within Konoha itself report what exactly?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

A smile glides across his face in a manner not unlike the summoning animal he'd been known for.

_Well. Colour me intrigued._

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END

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A/N Smallish chapter I know. But I think I got some important plot points across.

To my magnificent first reviewer. No, as you can see. None of the Major antagonists, sans (_maybe?_) Danzō have been hit.

Also, as stated, only the areas within and immediately surrounding Konoha have been hit. If they weren't there at the time, then they weren't hit. Make of that what you will.

Chapter 1's offer is still open and available.

Heads up. There's only one chapter to go before *CENSORED SHŌNEN TROPE* happens.


	3. Chapter 3

Everything That Remains – Chapter 3

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**Hawke:** Existence isn't a choice!

**Sarebaas:** It is the _only_ choice.

_Dragon Age II_

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The boy stops. He takes moment as a wave of nostalgia washes over him.

**He's had this dream before.**

Scent comes first, like it always does. _And damn, _was there anything like this one? He certainly didn't think so. What other aroma could just… remind him of every good thing that'd ever happened? What other scent could drive him from nought to salivating at the mouth in seconds flat? _Nothing. That's what._

**But. He's had this dream before.**

"Hey, old man Teuchi!" he hollers, taking a seat –_his seat_–, ready to sample some of the finest cuisine all of Konoha. The chef –_grand worker of all miracles ramen_– spins round ready to serve his best customer.

**It's not so bad this time. Right?**

"Welcome!" he practically bellows, his voice carrying an air of merriment. "What can I get you?"

**This used to hurt more. Or maybe-**

"-The usual," he answers, entirely ready for a _ridiculously_ large portion of pork ramen. He could feel the ear splitting grin beaming through him like his insides were treacle, _but, like, in a good way y'know?_. _Damn _he _loved _this place. Everything here was perfection. Like someone'd reached down and carved out a piece of the world just for him.

**-Maybe he's just a little numb to it now?**

And then everything went wrong.

**Supriiiiise.**

A small frown works its way across the chef's face. "Usual?"

_No._

**Yes.**

The smile was back again. But it wasn't right this time. It was a standard smile. It wasn't _his_ smile. "Ayame. We haven't served this young man before, have we?"

_NO._

**How could you have possibly expected anything else?**

The girl turns at her father's prompting. And, with those _kind _brown eyes she always has, looks_ straight though him_.

"Who?"

_NO!_

The smiles turn sinister.

"_YOU'RE JUST A STRANGER NOW__**.**_**"**

**This is the part where you wake up screaming. Right?**

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_Wrong_.

There is no scream. His eyes don't snap open with a start. He specifically _doesn't_ bolt upright, gasping for air. Not this time. Not like the first time.

Or the third.

Or the fifth.

The boy makes a strangled, guttural sound as he wipes away the sleep from his eyes. No tears though. Somebody once said that 'people should only cry when they're happy'. The boy, who looked upon this certain somebody as something of a grandfather figure, thought this was '_pretty deep_' and integrated it into his own personal philosophy almost immediately.

He'd cried a lot less after that.

It was barely dawn, but that hardly mattered. The boy had found out pretty early on that walking around in random directions didn't really require a schedule.

"Not a stranger" he mutters, hauling himself to his feet and slinging his knapsack over his shoulder. he figures he might as well make a move. He grabs for his canteen, now fastened to his waste and, as he downs its contents, he glances over at the vast body of fresh water to his left. Then, as he plasters a smile across his face, he swipes a leaf from a low hanging branch and begins to walk.

_I'm Naruto Uzumaki.  
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Weeks pass.

Suzume carefully –carefully!– removes the lid to her boxed lunch, checking for traps, insects, an abundance of hot sauce. You know. The usual.

–_Wait, what?_

It was a habit that the majority of the faculty within the Academy had adopted over the past few months. Every day they'd unpacked their own meals with a sense of trepidation– _dread even_.

Why had they done this?

…They had absolutely no idea. Which only made the paranoia worse. _By the Sage_, Nanako had actually started skipping lunch altogether.

Upon discovering that her meal had gone untampered, she split her attention between her meal and the papers she was supposed to've marked yesterday. Kunoichi classes were not going well _at all_. While the Yamanaka girl had the social talent to pass herself off as civilian, she also had _zero _social tact. An attribute which was likely to get her killed if and when she eventually pissed off the wrong person. The Haruno girl on the other hand had the opposite problem. Even with that atrociously conspicuous hair colour –_her father's, no doubt_– she seemed to naturally fade into the background. Unfortunately, it looked like this was mostly due to social awkwardness instead of actual ability, making it likely that her one asset would disappear once she actually started making friends.

_Wonderful, _at this rate she was going to have to tailor her lessons individually. She sighed. Maybe she should start them off with something more gentle?

_Flower collecting perhaps?_

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Even without memory, fragments of _Him_ remain.

Teachers, driven into fits of paranoia. Bracing themselves for a prank that never comes.

An empty seat at a certain ramen stall that nobody can quite bring themselves to fill.

The Nara that doesn't sleep through class quite as easily for reasons that he can't explain because _how could it be TOO quiet?_

The coupon on the Hokage's desk, never moving from its assigned place. Even after it expires, it remains, continuing to gather dust. Like some kind of holy relic that mustn't be disturbed.

Even when they're gone. People leave little pieces of themselves behind. Nobody really knows how much joy someone brings into thier life until they've lost them.

Even if they can't remember _what _they've lost.

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Months pass.

He returns from another mission. His team, as always, intact. But it was closer than he'd have liked this time. The fact that one of his subordinates was to blame further soured the fact.

He liked the man. He even appreciated what he'd been trying to do. But there was a time and a place for mercy, and that certainly wasn't it.

The Hokage says as much. The rest of his team is gone now -sans the offending member. He realises, belatedly, that he'd also been given permission to leave.

He catches the word 'academy' as he's leaving and can't help but agree. What better place was there for a surplus of compassion than among the presence of children?

Umino-san, he realised, would likely make an excellent teacher.

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More information that would've been vital weeks –_ day ago even–_ reaches his him a little too late. The last of the Sannin –_or at least he might as well be, considering the other two had either gone AWOL or traitor– _wasn't really sure he wanted to know what'd happened to the poor husk of a woman he was currently examining. Poor thing.

He imagined she'd been pretty, in her own way, which didn't make this any easier. The –_corruption? He supposed?_ _–_ had spread through her entire body, like there was acid in her veins. Her skin was a mix of blue-ish black and purple. Like the worst kind of bruise had seeped across her entire body. What exactly said corruption was on the other hand, he had no clue, and for the N'th time he felt a pang of nostalgia for the days when he could just call the princess over and have her look at it.

_Those were the days._

Moments later and he's scribbling information onto a scroll to be taken to Sarutobi-sensei. He doesn't ask about his godson of course. That would be mind-blowingly stupid. He trusts his toad summons to deliver the message of course. But on the off chance of an interception, he wasn't going to risk putting the boy on Iwa's radar –_Or Kumo's for that matter_– just because he wanted to know if the boy was making friends at school. If Sarutobi-sensei thought he needed to know something, then he'd know it. Simple as that.

He sighed, glancing back at the body–one of many ongoing anonymities. At this rate he wouldn't make it back to Konoha for _years_.

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Stereotypes amongst the hidden villages were interesting things, mainly because they were usually true– _shinobi didn't generally go about purposefully constructing common knowledge based upon ignorance._

…

_Okay, so they actually did that all the time. But usually not among themselves anyway._

…

_Actually, they did that too but the point is that these one's weren't._

Konoha, for example. Was known to have _the _best medical system, period. There simply was no contest. While other villages treated medical Ninjutsu like any other optional speciality, Tsunade of the Sannin had revolutionised the way her village though about medical care. Albeit, after a hell of a lot of shouting –mostly on her part, but she was cool with that.

Kumo and Iwa were jointly known for their sheer military prowess. Not an especially complicated image, but there it was.

Taki and the newly christened Oto, were known for being _literally _hidden. Nobody actually knew where their respective villages were situated within their respective lands and both were quite happy to keep it that way.

Suna and Kiri, also shared a stereotype. Mainly that of, 'never beaten on their own territory.' While Kiri enjoyed an elemental advantage that simply made it impossible to launch navel attacks, Suna, at most times, was in possession of a jinchūriki that could control all sand within any given environment. And when that environment was an _entire desert_…

And then, there was Kusagakure. The aptly named 'Village Hidden in the Grass', with blades sometimes growing taller than entire _trees, _was known for one thing in particular.

_Politics_.

Nowhere else was 'chronic backstabbing disorder' quite so prevalent, or celebrated for that matter, than in Kusa –_Except perhaps in Kiri, but that's another story_. Schemes were part of day to day life in. Factions, ploys, betrayals and alliances were commonplace, and constantly in flux. Not that they'd have it any other way. At this point, it was culturally ingrained within the shinobi population that those who played 'The Game', played to win. This isn't to say that there weren't certain… standards. Manipulation, for example, was prized over physical force, making figurative backstabbing more laudable than the literal kind –_Yet another reason they tended to look down on Kiri's political climate. _Whereas Kiri was currently in the process of tearing itself apart due to infighting (and _other reasons_), Kusa had learned to _thrive _on it.

As for foreign nations? They'd ceased to become quite the factor they once were to Kusa. This could largely be attributed to the colloquially known 'Blood Prison', or 'Hōzukijō' if you wanted to get all formal about it.

Due to what must now be considered an event of cosmic political insanity, a single shinobi village was now incarcerating _the_ most dangerous criminals of _every shinobi nation across the continent_. This was of course, with the exception of the newly established Otogakure who had politely refused their gracious offer on the basis that they'd already had a perfectly functioning system of semi-permanent incarceration. Useful, albeit _disconcerting_, information in its own right.

But what did this mean? Well, historically, in the case of Iwa foolishly deciding to use Kusa's own Kannabi Bridge as a proxy for one of their little skirmishes against Konoha, _it meant_ that there were _consequences_. And, while the Leaf was perfectly capable of taking care of the immediate threat themselves –_what use would they be as even nominal allies if they couldn't?_ – The repercussions as decided by the Village Hidden in the Grass were rather more_… significant_.

Significant as in Kusa releasing _twenty-five percent_ of Iwa's criminal population back into Iwa. That was roughly _three hundred_ missing-nin for those not well versed in shinobi criminology.

In retrospect, the world's shinobi population realised all too late that allowing Kusagakure exclusive rights to long-term shinobi incarceration was perhaps the most _outrageously stupid_ thing that'd ever been done in the history of their existence.

_Oh yes. _Guile was very much so Kusagakure's business.

_And business was good._

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END

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A/N

Hiya!

Sorry about the exposition dump at the end! I hope I made it at least mildly entertaining. I have been expanding a lot on the tiny amount of information given about Kusa, considering the Wiki, merely says that they're known for being "_skilled in diplomacy, a trait they constantly use to read the movements of other countries and stay one step ahead of them_". So it took 'diplomacy' to mean Hōzukijō.

To be honest, I think the Blood Prison is kind of broken in terms of plot, but like in a totally awesome way. I love the Idea that a militarily inferior nation could just use something like that to go 'don't fuck with us, or we'll let all you're missing-nin fuck with you'. So ninja. Much espionage. Very guile.

I think said exposition dump may have spoiled where this story is going a little, but hopefully you perfect strangers on the internet will think it's cool.

By the way, references to 'the game' are something I've lifted off of what the people of Orlais in Dragon Age call politics. Because I'm such a fanboy. Just the name though, not the entire soceo-political landscape because one is medieval fantasy and the other is Naruto (_eastern fantasy_?) so that wouldn't work. Unless… naaa.

Also, how does that work? I mean, do hunter-nin only capture most of the time? Keeping them on tap in Hōzukijō in case they need information? It's the only explanation I can think up that makes any kind of sense. What you think? 300 missing-nin out of 1200 from Iwa is my ballpark figure. Considering the size of the blood prison, it must be able to hold like, 5000 maybe? Its never really specified so this is what I'm going with.

A lot of angst going around, hopefully watered down with some humorous moments. I promise it gets lighter. Especially in the next chapter which is already underway.


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